If I say these words, will you listen. Or will you hear what you expect. Will my words get lost in a sea of sound?
Does your selective hearing work among ideas too? As it does the sounds in the world around us? Do you get to hear what you choose, blocking the rest out?
I wish I could show you. Maybe then you'd understand The ticking of the clock The humming of the fan They jam me up, they block my thoughts, my decisions, my ideas from traveling Anywhere at all While you deaden your senses to the world
I wish you'd see. The closing in. Darkness. Or the narrowing confusion of not knowing what is around. Not being able to rely on whether something is truly there or not. Not knowing how far it is. Or even knowing that there is so much more vision out there than you currently understand.
I wish you'd believe me. The pain. The blankness. The not knowing who or what
The not knowing what will happen this time. Will I be able to see? Speak? Walk? Always planning. Always ready. Never being enough. The struggle of someone who at any moment might Stop. Their motor cortex having been taken over by the migraine spreading through.
I wish there was a way that would be enough But more, I wish you'd believe And that there might be at least one safe place.
I wish, that maybe my senses were listened to By someone not me